Egotism And Enmity
by Blonde.Ambitions
Summary: Modern Day Pride & Prejudice. Lizzie doesn't think that Will Darcy could get anymore arrogant. She really, really hates him in fact. He's rude, insulting and downright stupid. He gets on her nerves like there's no tomorrow. But Lizzie can't get out of seeing him more and more when his best friend starts a relationship with her sister. Maybe she'll find out he's not all that bad?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"_It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife._" Jane Austen

.

Although my full name is Elizabeth, no-one has called me that for years. As far as I can remember, my friends and family have called me Lizzie. I have quite a large family, especially for this day and age. There's my parents and, much to my father's horror, my four other sisters and me. Jane is my only older sister, who's twenty six now. Then there's me, just turned twenty four, then Marie, Kat and Lydia. My father was really hoping for a boy I think, and I'm probably the nearest he's got to one. I'm not exactly a tomboy, but I like sport and I'm not into the colour pink. That was close enough for him. My mother is…well, for want of a better description, a drama queen. Of course, I love her with all my heart, but sometimes I do wonder about her.

Ever since my sisters and I were tiny, she's been pretty much obsessed with marrying us off and playing matchmaker for us with her friends. Lydia doesn't mind it too much (she's only seventeen and boy mad) and the others put up with it, but me – well, I hated it.

I was a late bloomer in the hormones department. Boys didn't really grab my attention until I was about eighteen. By then, I already had the title of frigid and a prude. So I decided it would be easier to stay away from the male population, who I generalised as being more trouble than they were worth. At twenty four, some would be ashamed to say that they had never been in a relationship, but not me. I wore that status like a badge, proud of the fact that I wasn't conforming to society's derogatory and crushing rules.

I would learn, that summer, that maybe I didn't have to go through life as an old maid, that I didn't need to be lonely and that I could find love in a species who I thought weren't good for anything except farting.

.

Being a teacher, I do get absolutely fantastic holidays. The summer bought with it a deliciously long eight week break. The holiday mood, however, was tinged slightly, because of my mother's birthday. This involved going back to my parent's house for four days and being completely surrounded by family. No doubt there would be overly nosy questions about my love life – there always was, and no doubt, there would be lots of disappointed faces when I said that I still hadn't found anyone.

"Jane? Are you nearly ready?" I shouted from my spot on the sofa, where I was waiting for my older sister to lug her suitcase downstairs. Jane had been staying at my little house in the middle of London for about a month now while she was looking for her own place.

"Yes! I'm just coming," my sister called back. I heard loud irregular thumps and hoped that that meant she was ready.

I went out into the hallway to open the front door and begin to load up my old car. My mouth fell open when I saw her luggage.

"Jane, we're only going for a fortnight! You have enough baggage to see to the needs of a third world country!"

Jane shrugged and waved an impatient hand in my direction. "You wouldn't understand," she said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, poking out my tongue and opening the front door. I tugged my miniature (in comparison) suitcase to my car, absentmindedly making a mental note to see to the rust that was beginning to form on the side. It's an old car, alright? There was a disturbing groaning noise as I piled bag after bag in the trunk of the car, but finally it was all packed in. I couldn't see out of the rear windscreen very well, but hey!

"Right then," I said, clapping my hands together. "Ready for a road trip?"

Before turning on the engine, I started skimming through my in car CD collection.

"Oh god, please let me choose," Jane said, a worry crease forming above her eyebrows. "I can't sit through two hours of your choice."

"Hey!" I said, eyes wide. "What is wrong with my music choice? It's incredible!"

Jane arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "It's very…loud," she said eventually and all too diplomatically. Loud is pretty accurate though. I love Led Zep, The Stones and Queen. I would have fitted right into the 80s.

You would never guess that Jane and I were sisters. She is willowy, very fair and the kindest person that I know. She was always the sister who got all the dates in school and the one who everyone loved. I am 5'5", brunette and a grumpy old bitch. I've only been on three dates in my entire life and I have a hate list. I teach primary school kids. They're all going to grow up like me.

"Fine," I said, with a pout on my lips. I slumped back into my driving seat. "Put on Classic FM or whatever it is that you listen to."

"You're so dramatic," said Jane. "I don't listen to classical music, unless I'm painting." Another thing about Jane – she's arty. Not quite hippy, but not too far off from it. She fiddled around with the dial while I reversed out of the parking space a little enthusiastically.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" Jane asked.

"No. I'm a perfectly capable driver."

"Sorry, can you remind me how many driving tests you had to take before you passed?"

"Shut up."

"Was it four?"

"Jane!"

My sister laughed. "I'm sorry Liz. You know I'm only teasing."

.

"Yellow car! I win, I win!" I shouted. We were playing my favourite car game. And, as usual, I was winning.

"You are so weird. Only you would take this game so seriously," said Jane.

"Whatever. What's the point of playing a game if you don't want to win."

"It's the yellow car game," Jane said slowly. "Honestly, I think all the kids you teach are starting to rub off on you."

I shrugged. "As long as I'm not rubbing off on them, I'm okay with that."

We were almost at my parent's house. It was a pretty house and growing up there had been great fun. The garden was huge and I had spent ages exploring it when I was a kid. It was a big country cottage, but not half as big as the huge mansion that was just along the lane from it – Netherfield Park. There used to be an old couple living there when I was young. Jane and I would visit them occasionally with our mother. A couple of years ago, the old woman died of a terminal illness. A short time later, her husband died too. My mother had always said it was of a broken heart, but I was far too bitter to believe that rubbish. It had been empty for a while. It was for sale, but in my opinion, this climate meant that no one would be buying it anytime soon.

So it was with a little bit of shock that I drove up the lane that lead to both abodes and saw SOLD stamped across the 'for sale' sign that was at the beginning of the lane.

"Jane, look!" I said, "Somebody's bought Netherfield!"

"Ooh, I wonder who," my sister said. "Another old rich couple do you think?"

"Yeah, probably," I said. "Although I'm hoping for something a bit more exciting."

"You're always hoping for something more exciting."

At that moment, just as I was about to pull into the driveway of our family home and off the joint lane that led up to Netherfield, a shiny black beast of a car over took me from behind.

"Shit!" I yelled, swerving onto the grassy verge to avoid a collision. As the car passed, I saw the heads of two men; the passenger, with auburn hair and the driver, a dark man. "Hooligan!" I yelled out the window, although the car was already fifty metres away. "There's a man with more money than sense, if ever I saw one."

Jane was clutching at her seat belt. "God, he's a worse driver than you are Lizzie."

I rolled my eyes. "Not funny."

I reversed off the grass and pulled into our driveway.

"Oh god, look, they're already waiting for us," I said.

Our mother was standing on the gravel, with a ridiculously large smiling. She was waving like one of those plastic cats in Chinese takeaways. Our father was behind her, looking at his watch. Poor dad.

I parked the car and we both got out. "Hello darlings," said my mother, Natasha. "Did you have a nice journey?"

"If by nice you mean Lizzie didn't crash the car, then yes, it was nice…just about," said Jane, the traitor. She kissed our mother on both cheeks. The latter then proceeded to hold her oldest daughter in front of her, hands on Jane's shoulders. "Are you eating enough?" Mum asked, her icy blue eyes stabbing at Jane.

"Yes, mother, I'm eating _plenty_," said Jane. "Probably too much. Lizzie is a bad influence in the food department."

"Thanks Jane," I said, going over to give my dad a hug. We had always been close and, despite the family reunion business, I was happy to be seeing him.

"Where's everyone else then?" I asked, looking round.

"Lydia and Kat are inside, probably doing their hair or whatever it is that they do. Marie is reading, as usual. The guests arrive tomorrow, except your gran and granddad, they come in time for dinner."

My mouth unwittingly turned down at the corners.

"I know love, but we have to put up with them so they actually leave us some money in their wills," said dad, not only surprising me with his dry humour as usual, but also with his uncanny skills in the field of telepathy.

I tugged out my luggage from the car. "So we saw that Netherfield has finally been bought again. Do we know who?" I asked over my shoulder.

I heard my father groan. "She's off again," he muttered and made to go back inside the house with some of Jane's luggage.

"Well," said my mother, "The man who has bought it is called Charles Bingley. His father is on The Times' rich list, would you believe!" Sometimes it really struck me how shallow my mother could be. "He's nearly thirty and very, very single," she looked pointedly at Jane. "He seems just your type darling, I can't wait for you to meet him."

"Mother…" Jane began, ever trying to take the peaceful route.

I cut right across her. "Mother, we're not interested in being set up. Even if it is your birthday."

"But Lizzie, Mr Bingley has a friend too! You two would be-"

"Don't!" I said. "Don't finish that sentence. We both know that you, me and dating do not mix. It's a proven fact."

Mum narrowed her eyes slightly. "Oh well. I have tried. I might just have to resign myself to the fact that I'm going to have an old maid for a daughter, whose only relationship is with her cats."

I shot her a sugary smile. "Damn straight, ma."

Mum tutted and turned to go into the house. "You know I don't approve of that…language."

"Sorry," I muttered.

"Girls!" Mum called from the bottom of the stairs. "Come and say hello to your sisters!"

I heard footsteps from upstairs. The first pair of feet I saw were bare, but there were a billion anklets on the ankle. Kat. The next was wearing a pair of pink flowery flip flops and bright purple nail varnish. _Definitely_ Lydia. The last feet to trudge down the stairs were laced up in black Dr Martens, with a ratty pair of rainbow coloured stripy socks poking out over the top. Marie. Oh dear.

There was the usual flurry of hugs and kisses that come about if you don't see your family for months. Lydia was being overdramatic as ever (some day that girl will be on the stage). Kat was acting scarily grown up and Marie…poor Marie, she was nineteen but her hormones were still raging away like anything. Her skin was flecked with acne and her hair, that she hadn't bothered to wash, was tied up in a greasy ponytail. I winced. The thing is with Marie, is that you expect that she's going to be shy or at least timid. But no, she was loud mouthed and bossy and a complete show off. This plus the fact that she dressed like a cross between a hippy and an eighties punk meant that she was worse off in the boy department than me. And that really is saying something.

"When's lunch then?" I asked, patting my stomach which was rumbling and growling.

"But Lizzy, we stopped off at a service station like an hour ago," said Jane, shaking her head.

I stuck out my tongue, proving how mature I can be. "Just because you have the appetite of a stick doesn't mean that everyone else does too. I'm a growing girl, I need my food."

Marie laughed to herself. "Growing around the middle maybe," she choked out.

I shot her what I hoped was a withering, pitying look. I probably just looked like a gargoyle. But the effect was still the same – Marie shut up.

"We can eat in about fifteen minutes. You and Jane go and unpack now, okay?" said mum, shooing us in the direction of the stairs.

Jane and I were sharing a room but we didn't mind, it was plenty big enough for two. Jane unloaded her ridiculous amount of luggage and took up the whole of the big cupboard and three quarters of the chest of drawers. I rolled my eyes at her HUGE bag of makeup. She rolled _her_ eyes at my little make up bag which only contained mascara, eyeliner and a tin of Vaseline.

.

During dinner, I got my first 'surprise'.

I heard Jane give a very _un_Jane snort. "Hey, Lizzie," she said, elbowing me. "Guess who Mum has invited to the party?"

My heart sank. No, it couldn't be. "Mother you wouldn't…"

"It's Colin!" said Jane with a shriek of laughter.

I threw my head back in exasperation and disbelief. Colin was a long standing joke in our family. He is my mother's third cousin, twice removed or something ridiculous like that. I first met him at a different family gathering about three years ago and for some reason, he followed me around the whole time like a sick puppy. At the end of the evening (_without my knowledge_) he got my mobile number from Mum, who was all too happy to give it to him, finally thinking that her daughter had scored. How wrong could she have been. Colin practically _haunted_ me for months until I saw him at a family wedding. There was a rather embarrassing confrontation that I had thought was a good idea. I had had a few too many champagnes, so sue me. Colin had tried to pull the Puss In Boots card, but I was having none of it. He toned it down but every time I see him at a family event, he still tries his disgusting one liners on me. It's actually painful.

"Mum, that's not even funny."

"I'm sorry darling," said Mum, in a voice that didn't sound sorry at all. "But I couldn't invite his parents and sister and not him. That would have been plain rude."

"There's loads of people coming," said Lydia, in her gossipy tone. "Has Mum told you about the new guys up at Netherfield?"

I groaned and slapped a hand over my forehead. "We were only here five minutes and she's already trying to set us up."

"Well," Lydia continued, "Once you see them, maybe you won't mind being set up with them. I sure wouldn't mind an introduction," she said, hinting hopefully at Mum, who tactfully ignored Lydia. Lydia was perhaps the exception to my mother's matchmaking schemes. If Lydia was encouraged in anyway with boys, then there would be chaos in the world.

"I was thinking actually," said Mum with a thoughtful expression, "I've been meaning to drop in on them to see if they would like to come to the party."

"Why don't you?" I said sullenly.

There was a pregnant pause. Jane's eyes met mine. "Oh no. No way. Do your own dirty work. I have no part in this."

"It would really help me out if you girls would just nip up the lane with the invitations," said Mum ignoring my protests. "I have so much to do here still." She turned her puppy dog eyes onto Jane, who she knew was weaker than me. It took Jane about five seconds to cave.

"Come on Liz," she said. "We could do with the walk anyway, I'm stuffed. It is Mum's birthday after all."

I rolled my eyes. "And this is why you'll always be her favourite daughter," I said sulkily.

.

And that was how Jane and I found ourselves looking for the doorbell outside Netherfield.

"God, it's been a long time since I've been here," said Jane, from the other side of the huge stone porch where she was looking for a button.

"Me too…ah! Found it! …I think," I said, pulling at a rusty metal chain. Deep within the house I heard a jingling noise.

We waited for a while. About thirty seconds later, the door opened. A main with auburn hair poked his head out. I wracked my brain to try and remember where I had seen that colour hair recently.

"Hi," he said to both of us, although I noticed his gaze float over Jane for a second time.

"Hi," said Jane taking the lead. I noticed that her gaze kept travelling up and down his body too. Well, shock horror, maybe Mum's practice of matchmaking was finally paying off. "Sorry to bother you-"

"It's okay," he said quickly. He then blushed a little, which even I have to admit was a bit cute. "I mean, er…yeah."

Jane giggled shyly. "I'm Jane Bennet, my parents live just down the lane in the cottage. This is my sister Lizzie."

"Hi," he said, for the first time really acknowledging me. He had a friendly smile which he was using to his full advantage. "Would you like to come in?"

"Oh," said Jane. "We didn't mean to impose..."

"Not at all," he said. "I'm Charles Bingley, but call me Charlie."

"Well…Charlie…it's a bit of a strange request, but our mum was wondering if you would like to come to her birthday party that she's hosting tomorrow. You know, neighbourly relations and all that."

We were following Charlie Bingley along a lavishly decorated corridor, that hadn't changed all that much since my childhood. He opened to door into a light, creamy coloured room.

"Oh, that sounds great," said Charlie. "But, er, I don't suppose it's possible for my friend here to come too, is it? Only he's staying with me for a bit and I couldn't really dump him, no matter how much I want to sometimes." He waved his hand in the direction of some chairs and for the first time I noticed another man in the room. He was looking at us with very little interest, a snooty expression playing over his handsome face. But I remembered where I had seen them both before as soon as I saw the little bugger.

"Hey!" I said loudly, pointing at the man. "It's you!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it is me."

"Shut up. I meant that _you're_ the guy who nearly drove us off the road earlier," I said, with a glare.

"Oh shit," said Charlie. "It was you guys. I'd like to apologize _on behalf of my friend_," he said pointedly. "I wanted to stop the car and see if you were okay, but someone here was speeding. Would you believe he is a lawyer? Oh, sorry, I haven't introduced you; this is my friend Will Darcy. He's a demon driver."

"To be fair to me, you did say you needed to be back here quickly," said the Arrogant Asshole with an indifferent shrug.

"Quickly doesn't mean shoving cars off the road!" I snapped.

"Lizzie," said Jane, tapping my shoulder gently.

"You were going ridiculously slowly," Darcy said.

My mouth dropped open. "Because I was turning into the lane! Unlike you some of us are actually careful drivers."

"You can't base this one experience on whether or not I'm a careful driver!"

I rolled my eyes impatiently. "That's beside the point mister. I could sue you."

"But you won't."

"That's beside the point too," I said with a pout, knowing that the Asshole was right.

"I'm so sorry about her," said Jane, with an apologetic grimace at Charlie Bingley.

"I'm right here!" I said indignantly.

They both ignored me. "No, _I'm_ sorry," said Charlie. "It's completely our fault."

"Damn straight it was," I interrupted.

"Are you okay?" Charlie continued.

"Yeah, I think so," Jane said. "A little bit shaken after it maybe, but I'm perfectly fine now."

Charlie smiled. "Yeah you are perfect," he said.

I snorted.

"I mean – I mean you are perfectly fine," the man said, his cheeks the colour of his hair. I felt for him.

"Okay, I'm going to head back home now," I said. "I'm sure mother has some other horrendous chore that she needs me to do. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then Charlie," I said to the man, who nodded and smiled, then turned his adoring gaze back to Jane. I sighed. "It was _so_ nice meeting you," I said sarcastically to Will Darcy, who had stood up from his chair. He was really, really tall and had deliciously muscular arms…STOP! This man is a menace.

Without even waiting for Jane, I left Netherfield and made my way back to the cottage.

.

I slammed the door behind me. That was a really bad habit I had, slamming doors.

"Alright mother," I called out. "You were partially right. Jane and _Charlie_ Bingley are probably at it already. They're disgusting. But you are so, so wrong about that other one. Whatever his name is. Will Arse-y or something. He's awful. Not my type at all."

I didn't bother to wait and listen to mum's reply, but had the satisfaction of proving her wrong.

I went out into the garden to find Dad trying to put up a string of fairy lights in the row of apple trees. He was wobbling dangerously on the ladder. I went over to help him.

"Not for you then?" said Dad, with a grin.

"No."

"You know Lizzie, if men aren't for you then-"

"Ew! Dad! Stop! I like men! I have a poster of a topless Alexander Skarsgard on my wall, thank you very much."

Dad winced. "I didn't really need to know that."

"Grow up. You know what I mean."

"But honestly, your mother is panicking. She wants you married before you're too saggy to fit into a nice wedding dress."

"What happened to that childhood talk, 'all in your own time, sweetheart'?"

"You know what your mum is like with setting you girls up."

"Yes, but I thought she would grow out of it."

Dad climbed down the stepladder after making sure that the little lights were stable. "I doubt that will ever happen. She'll be at it until the day she dies."

"Great," I moaned. "A whole lifetime left of awkward hints and set up dates. What fun."

"You could always find someone for yourself. Aren't there any nice men who you work with?"

"The only guy who works at my school who isn't married, is Boris the Hungarian janitor. He's fifty two and smells of cheese. That's just foul."

Dad shrugged. "You know if it was up to me, you could stay single as long as you liked. But just try for your mother okay?"

.

In the evening, after we had had supper, Jane and I went back to ours rooms. She was getting changed into her pyjamas, but I noticed a soppy smile on her face.

"Please don't tell me that you're still thinking about that guy?"

Jane looked at me, as if only just remembering that I was in the room too. "Lizzie…"

But I could tell that it was Charlie Bingley that she was thinking about. "I'm not saying you can't like him Jane."

"I know but I want to take things slowly, y'know?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I should hope you would take things slow…you only met him this morning!"

Jane rolled her eyes at me. "You know what I meant."

I shrugged. "I can forgive you for liking the cute one. He's not my type, but I can see why you like him. His _friend_ on the other hand…have you seen anyone more stuck up their own ass?"

"You don't know him Lizzie."

"Jane. You are allowed to be a bitch at least once in your life. It's quite fun actually. Admit that he's an arrogant bastard and I won't tell Mum that you like that Charlie guy."

"Lizzie, you can't tell Mum anything. You know what that would start and I would never be able to face this guy again. Okay, okay, I admit, the guy seemed like a bit of a douche. You definitely had right of way."

It was weird how much satisfaction I got out of hearing that I was in the right.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Angry people are not always wise." Jane Austen, 'Pride and Prejudice'

.

The next morning, I _accidentally _slept in. I didn't mean to sleep in. I was supposed to get up nice and early (ew – this is supposed to be a holiday) to help with getting everything ready for that evening. I groaned and swung my legs out of bed, threw on an old t-shirt and a pair of cut off denim shorts.

"And where have you been?!" Mum shrieked at me. I could tell she was stressed because firstly, she was shrieking and secondly; her hair looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. She was wrestling with a chicken that she was trying to stuff into the oven.

"Didn't hear my alarm," I grunted. Mornings weren't exactly my strong point. I walked over to mum and the oven, took the tray from her and slotted it into the oven for her. She patted my head like I was five years old again.

"Do me a favour, darling, and go and help your father with setting up the tables in the marquis?"

I rolled my eyes, but then took pity on Dad when I saw him struggling with about half a trillion plates and cutlery sets. I slid on my canvas soled flip flops and went out into the garden.

"You alright, Dad?" I asked, picking up a stack of plates and mimicking the way Dad was laying them out on the tables.

"Yes, thanks love," he said, when he saw me helping. "I don't know how your mother tricked me into doing this…"

"I don't think you ever did tell me how she persuaded you to let her have a party?"

"I can't quite remember now, but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with golf. It must have been golf – I wouldn't have caved otherwise. You know how much I hate parties."

There was nothing Dad loved more than his golf and nothing he detested more than social occasions; although he was incredibly charming when talking to people, I could always see him tapping his foot in impatience or drumming his fingers on the nearest surface in annoyance. I guess I must take after my Dad more than Mum…

Dad and I stayed out in the garden, trying to make the garden look how Mum wanted it to. Needless to say, she felt the need to come out and correct us a good few times, but by four o'clock, an hour before the guests were due to arrive, we finally finished.

Mum poked her head out of the kitchen window. She was in a dressing gown and her hair was up in curlers. "Are you two still out here?! What have you been doing – you won't be ready in time for the start of the party!"

"Well there's gratitude for you," said Dad, but I saw him give Mum a peck on the cheek as he went into the house to get ready. I sighed. Why couldn't I find someone to love unconditionally – no matter how annoying I found them?

.

"Lizzie, you can't wear denim shorts to Mum's evening party. She will disown you." Jane was looking at my outfit disapprovingly.

I sighed. "I know she won't be best pleased, but this is all I have!"

"I can't believe that you left your dress at home after all the fuss we had about getting it."

I looked down at the floor guiltily. I had dragged Jane out shopping with me for about six hours to find a dress that I liked that one; didn't show all the flesh I owned and two; didn't cost a whole month's wages. We had finally found one, and so as to keep it clean and tidy, I had hung it up on the back of my bedroom door…and forgotten to put it in the back of the car.

"I think I can lend you something," said Jane. Jane's wardrobe for summer consisted mostly of flowing skirts and flowery dresses – i.e. not my style at all (I tend to go for more plain and simple, or classy as I like to call it).

"Are you sure it will fit?" I asked sceptically, looking as Jane rummaged through her suitcase. Jane was quite petite, especially in the chest area, whereas I was more…shapely, shall we say.

"Yes. Lizzie we've been through this before. You're not that much bigger than me. Here, try these three."

The first dress she threw at me was a vile sequinned black bodycon dress. I didn't even bother trying it on.

The second was slightly better; pale pink, skater skirt and white lace collar. But I wasn't entirely happy about the way it sat one me – slightly too tight around the bust and hips for my liking…

The third was therefore, my only other choice, which was lucky, because weirdly enough, I quite liked it. It was plain – just how I liked it. Black, down to my feet, not too low cut, but low enough for a sensible amount of cleavage to show. I added a long chain gold necklace and a pair of sandals on underneath. My hair was vaguely cooperating (with the help of my dear friend, Hairspray).

When I emerged from my dressing room (the en suite), Jane raised an eyebrow. "Well Lizzie…I have to say – you look like you almost made an effort."

"Gee thanks, sis," I said, bumping her shoulder playfully. "You don't look half bad yourself."

It was annoyingly true – Jane was wearing a short dress, with gold sequins on the body and a gauzy white skirt. Ugh – effortlessly beautiful people should be locked up.

"Come on, let's go downstairs," said Jane, checking the time on the wall clock.

"Why…you waiting for someone special to arrive?" I asked her teasingly, thinking of Charlie Bingley.

"Shut up," said Jane, her cheeks pink. She swept past me and out of the door, almost gliding down the stairs. I psyched myself up a bit before joining her downstairs, where some guests were already beginning to arrive.

I smiled and greeted a few guests in the entrance, until I got bored of pretending to remember people who I hadn't seen since I was about six.

Out in the garden, I grabbed a bottle of beer, and opened the top with a wonderfully unladylike gesture; using my teeth, just how my daddy taught me. I sat down on one of my garden benches at the corner of a part of the lawn that wasn't quite so crowded. At events like these, I preferred to watch people, rather than interact with them. People watching. But my peaceful observations were interrupted by Jane's voice.

"Lizzie? What are you doing just sitting here? Look who it is!" I knew who my sister was talking about before I even looked around to see who her new companions were.

"Hi there," I said standing up and smiling, in what I hoped was a charming way at Charlie Bingley. I ignored Will Darcy. "It's great that you could make it at such short notice."

"Oh, no trouble," said Charlie. "Isn't that right, Will?"

There was no reply from the other man. I had to admit that he did look good in a slim fit suit and white shirt, with the top few buttons undone…but even his good looks couldn't make up for his lack of manners and charm.

"Well, anyway," said Jane, as always smoothly brushing over the awkward silence. "Charlie was just telling me about his plans for Netherfield. He's planning to make it into a spa. Won't that be lovely?"

"Oh wonderful!" I said. "Just think Jane, whenever we get bored while we're staying here, we could just pop up the road for a massage. Sounds great. When's the work going to start?" I asked Charlie.

"Not for a while yet," he said, "But I'm hoping that maybe we could start by Christmas." I couldn't help but notice the endearing way his eyes lit up when he was talking about his Netherfield project, which he was obviously so passionate about.

After a while longer of chit chat between Jane, Charlie and I (Darcy just lurked in the background), I excused myself and went to get another drink. Lord knows I would need one. One of the 'barmen' handed me a glass of champagne. I smiled at him in thanks, and my jaw almost dropped open. He was…well, gorgeous. Sort of rugged and rough, but still gave off the impression of having bucket loads of style and fashion sense.

"Hi," he said with a grin.

"Oh…sorry…hi," I replied, after a couple of seconds silence. Great – he must already think I'm a dork.

"I'm George," he said. "I see you're enjoying yourself." There was a definite tinge of sarcasm lacing his deep, baritone voice that made me smile.

"It's not my thing, I'm afraid," I explained. "I'm Lizzie. The 'birthday girl's' daughter."

"Nice to meet you," said George with a wink. "You want something stronger than that champagne?"

"My mother's ordered drinks that are stronger than champagne?" I asked incredulously.

"Not ordered them as such, but I've got a bottle of vodka underneath the table if you'd like some."

"Would I ever!" I said enthusiastically. "Drink will get me through this evening."

George surreptitiously handed me a tumbler with a little vodka at the bottom. I raised the glass up to my lips and down the stinging liquid quickly. I let out a breath and placed the glass back down on the white cloth covered table.

"Impressive," the man said. "I'm guessing you resort to this quite often."

I shrugged. "I haven't been to a big event for a while now…I think the last one was last year, but yes, you're right, I often end talking to hot bartenders while drinking spirits."

Oh lord – the drink was acting quickly.

George didn't comment of my blunder, but I saw him smile at the table. Now he definitely knows I'm a dork.

I was about to ask for another shot of my favourite drink, when I saw Colin. I groaned and threw my head back.

"You okay?" George asked me, one of his eyebrows slightly raised.

"Yes…for now," I added darkly. "There's someone who I'd rather not have to talk to right now, so I'm going to leave…" I jerked my thumb in the direction of Colin, who thankfully hadn't yet seen me.

George's eyes followed my gesture. He nodded knowingly. "I see – an ex-boyfriend. I see a lot of them. Go on – I won't tell him where you're hiding."

"_No!_" I hissed indignantly. "He is most definitely not an ex-boyfriend, nor will he ever be. I like to think that I have some standards."

George grinned impishly. "I was rather wondering what a beautiful woman like you was doing with a greaseball like him…"

I rolled my eyes. "Long story – oh! I've got to go…he might see me!"

I ran behind the drinks tent and into the secret part of the garden. The entrance to the secluded space was half hidden by ivy, an old brick archway that you could only see if you knew where it was. It was my secret safe place, that I went to all the time as a kid, to escape from my mother, to escape my chores, to think…which is why I was so surprised when, after sitting on the hammock that was still hanging between two yew trees, I saw a man sitting on a bench opposite the little pond about twenty metres away. I was beginning to recognise that dark haired head, with wide shoulders and a sculpted back…Will Darcy.

I stood up sharply. "What are you doing here?" I asked him, none too kindly.

Darcy turned around. "I'm not doing anything. There's no reason why I shouldn't be here."

"I'm the reason why you shouldn't be here," I retorted.

"Correction – you're the reason why I don't _want _to be here. Has anyone told you how annoying you are?"

My mouth dropped open. "I'm sure lots of people have told you how rude _you_ are."

Darcy shrugged. "It's come up in conversation once or twice."

I snorted. This man was getting on my tits big time. "Please would you get out of my personal space."

He ignored my…request…and asked me a question. "Why are _you_ hiding out here anyway? These people are your family – shouldn't you be back there?"

My eyes narrowed. "There's people who I don't want to see. You're one of them. Please leave." Now, let me make this clear – I'm not normally a rude person. Sarcastic? Yes. Grumpy? Hell yeah. But not rude. It's just sometimes, people really bring out the worst in me. People like Will Darcy and Colin.

Darcy gave an amused grin. "Well, since you asked so nicely," he said, standing up and brushing the seat of his trousers for any debris. My eyes absentmindedly followed his hands, but I quickly looked away again when I noticed what I was doing. I mentally scolded myself.

I returned to the hammock, not watching him leave, but hearing his footsteps; soft and heavy across the grass, but then harsh clicks across the paving. I lay rocking on the hammock for a while, until I fell asleep.

.

I can't have been asleep for too long because when I woke, it was only just beginning to go dusky. I sat up and stretched, then sighed because I knew that I'd better go back to the party. There was music playing now – not good music though, may I add. I hate seventies music with an absolute passion, but it was when my mum was 'at her peak' as she says (ew) so it was her favourite era. Right now, I think it was something by Lionel Richie. Although I never could tell the difference between him and Tom Jones.

Back in the main garden, you could tell that the drinks were beginning to flow a bit easier.

"Where have you been hiding?" My dad's voice came from behind my ear, making me jump. "I've been left alone to deal with Aunty Joy for half an hour."

Aunty Joy was probably the most full on person I have ever met. She talked non-stop (literally), usually about herself and only came up for air to have a drink. Which usually made the talking part all the worse.

"Sorry dad," I said, feeling only a tiny bit guiltily. "I've been hiding from Colin."

Dad nodded understandingly. "I see. I forgive you then."

"Robert!" came my Mum's voice, calling my Dad. "You remember Andy and Sophie, don't you? Come and say hello!" She was standing next a couple and smiling widely.

"But I don't remember Andy and Sophie," mumbled Dad under his breath, but he shuffled over to them all. I smiled to myself.

Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. "There you are!" came an all too familiar voice. No…please no…I had avoided this all night. I turned around.

"Hi Colin," I said, with no trace of attempted enthusiasm in my voice. "What do you want?"

"Just a chat! It's been a while hasn't it?"

"Not long enough."

"You always were a tease. How have you been?"

"Alright." I didn't want to talk to him and I wasn't going to pretend. If Colin was being led on from just this little effort from me, then imagine what he'd have been like if I actually played along with him.

"Lizzie, you're not very talkative are you?"

Ugh. "Do you know what Colin? I _am_ talkative. I just don't want to talk to you. How do you not understand that?"

He blinked for a moment in silence, and I wondered, nay, hoped, that I had _finally _got through to him. Then he just laughed. "You're so funny when you try to pretend to be angry."

For a moment I wondered if this whole situation was a complete joke. I wanted a relationship, I really did, but when the only choice was this buffoon, anyone would rather be an old maid. I tried to walk away from him, so as not to lose my temper completely. Mum would have exploded if I caused a scene at her party. But Colin's arm wound around my waist, trying to draw me into his side. I wiggled around for a bit. "Get off me Colin."

"It's okay if you're attracted to me. Lots of women are." I felt a tiny bit of sick come into my mouth. Bitch please, what woman could ever be attracted to this pile of poo? "Just open up to me and you'll see that I'm not as intimidating as you think I am."

I was honestly about to scream at him, when a cool, strong hand pulled Colin and me apart. "I think the lady has told you to leave her alone."

It was George, the bartender from earlier in the evening. I sighed with relief – a sane person to help me! Colin was flustering behind me, blabbering on about something that no one cared about. But all I could focus on was George Wickham, who was now my knight in shining armour. It was quite dark now, the fairy lights strung up around the trees giving George an ethereal glow. I should have become a poet, not a teacher. Colin was shooed away and he stomped off, still moaning to himself.

I turned to George. "Thank you so so much!" I gushed, like a teenage girl. "Honestly, I was about to have a fit."

George laughed a little. "I could tell. That's why I intervened. I could see him bothering you. Sorry I didn't help you out sooner."

I shook my head. "Don't be sorry! I'm so grateful. I thought I was going to be stuck with him for the rest of the evening." I shuddered at the thought.

I think George must have taken the shudder for a shiver, because his rubbed his large hands up and down the tops of my arms. I didn't correct him though, because it felt so good. Too good.

"Why don't you come back to the drinks tent with me? That way the douche won't come back again."

I tried not to sound too eager, but I think my "Sure!" perhaps sounded slightly keen.

.

I sat down behind the table on a pile of plastic crates. The other bartender, who's name I learned was Danny, smiled at me when I sat down.

"Want a drink?" he asked.

"Throw us a Stella," I said. I did my party trick of opening it with me teeth.

"There's a reason why we have bottle openers," said George, a laugh in his voice.

I shrugged. "Takes too long." I glugged down some of the amber liquid and sat back and watched the two men serving out drinks. My eyes kept straying towards George's back and bum. I think I had been staring a bit too long, because I was startled out of my daydreams.

"Like was you see?" George was grinning teasingly.

I flushed a deep beetroot red. Being caught checking someone out was insanely embarrassing. "Sorry," I stuttered. "I wasn't… I mean, you know…I was just – I was thinking, I didn't mean to…"

George laughed. "I'm not complaining. It makes me feel a little better for having stared at you the whole evening too."

I bit my lip. Was this for real? Was I flirting with a guy who was definitely good looking, a complete charmer and not a complete idiot?

The guests were beginning to leave now, the garden getting emptier and emptier. After another fifteen minutes, the garden was practically empty. A couple of ladies came round with a bin bag and started picking up discarded cups and paper napkins. Danny and George began to pack up all the unopened drinks into cooler boxes.

"Can I help?" I asked, suddenly feeling a bit like Lady Muck by just sitting there watching them work.

Danny pointed out the boxes and their corresponding beverage. I was bending over to put some cans of lemonade in their box, when I felt a light pinch on my bum. I straightened reflexively and looked behind me to see who had done that. All I was met with was the sight of George's back, but I could see his shoulders raise and fall with a chuckle.

"We're going to take the boxes back out to the van now," Danny said, when all the drinks had been packed away.

"I'll come," I said, still pathetically wanting to be around George.

In a fabulous show of strength from the guys, they lifted up three of the boxes each and began to lug them round the back exit to the driveway. I followed slowly behind them, dragging a box pathetically. Danny went back to get the last box, leaving George to load up the van. When he'd finished and was waiting for Danny to bring out the last few things, he leaned against the side of the van next to me.

"So, it was nice meeting you," he said. There was a pause. "Can I get your number?" He said eventually.

"Yes!" I squeaked. I coughed. "I mean, yeah sure."

George smiled and pulled out an iPhone from his back pocket. I reeled off my number and he fiddled around for a bit, saving it.

"Do you live in London?" I asked.

"Yeah, right in the centre. What about you?"

"I live there too…maybe, I don't know, we could meet up next week for drinks?" I twiddled my thumbs, suddenly nervous as to what the reply would be.

"I like the sound of that. Can I text you the details?"

My heart sank. I doubted he was interested if all he said was 'I'll text you.' But oh well, points to me for at least trying.

Danny came back a minute later. "Nice to meet you Lizzie," he said, shaking my hand. He climbed into the driving seat of the van.

That just left me and George again. "Well…bye then," I said dismally.

"Is that all I get?" he asked, with mock indignation. "Just a goodbye? No kiss?"

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. My kissing experiences were few and far between at most, so I didn't quite know the etiquette for moments like these. I decided for a safe option and leaned in for a peck on his cheek. At last moment, he turned his head, so my lips connected with his instead. His hand crept up to my waist and the other to the back of my head. Instinctively, I clung to his shoulders, holding on for dear life. When we finally broke away for air, I couldn't say anything at first.

"So, I'll text you then?" he said and somehow, I had a bit more belief that he actually would. I nodded and smiled, waving a little as he climbed into the van. It pulled away, the gravel beneath the tyres.

As I turned around to go back inside the house, I saw Jane and Charlie Bingley coming out onto the drive. I smiled when I saw their intertwined hands, how she smiled up at him from under her eyelashes. My mood darkened when I saw Will Darcy following them, a few paces behind. Jane walked with them to their car, that big black monster. Darcy went straight to the driver's seat, without a second word to anyone. Charlie leaned in for a swift kiss on Jane's cheek, who blushed a pretty pink and smiled daintily.

The car pulled away and down the drive way, turning at the end to drive up to Netherfield.

"Jane!" I called, trying to get her attention. She turned to face my direction, saw me, waved and came over to join me. "Hello," I said. "And what have you been up to all evening, eh?" I asked her, with a cheeky smile.

She tutted. "You make it sound so wrong. We've just been chatting, you know."

I arched an eyebrow teasingly. "I saw that little kiss at the end."

Jane glared at me. "Well I saw you with that bartender; you were with him for basically the whole end of the evening."

This time it was my turn to flush, because I don't like it when people use my own points against me. "So what?" I said petulantly. "It probably made mother happy."

Jane giggled suddenly.

"What?"

"Mum's probably planning your wedding now."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hey guys, sorry about the huge delay in updating this! I haven't forgotten about Lizzie. We were burgled a while back and laptops were taken, etc, which was a right pain, so it's taken me a while to get E&E up and running again. I hope you enjoy this chapter though…I have been doing a tonne of planning for this story though! Check out some of my other fanfic work too if you can, and, as always…REVIEW!**

"_Is he amiable?" –Mrs Bennet_

It was a week after the party at Longbourne; Jane and I were safely back in London away from the dangerous proximity of our mother and the annoyance of Will Darcy (whom I had had to endure a further three times during our stay because of Jane wanting to see Charlie Bingley).

I had promised Chaz, my best friend, that we would both meet when (slash IF) I returned from my trip to my mother's. I had known Chaz for about ten years, from the time I was in secondary school. The first time I saw him (when we were something like 14), I knew that we would be best friends. Chaz was wearing...well...I don't quite know what he was wearing, but velvet, brothel creeper shoes and the colour yellow were involved. His fashion sense has slightly died down a bit now - but only a little...today he wore pink knee length shorts... Another reason why I loved Chaz so much was because of how strong he was as a person. Being gay as a teenager in a school where most other boys are very, very straight, had been really tough for him. But no matter what any of them threw at him, he always managed to pick his head up and throw something back at them. Even after we left school and he went to university to study fashion and I went to train to become a teacher, we still kept in contact. I don't know what I would do without him, to be quite honest.

We were at our favourite coffee shop in London, on a little back street. The shop was called Bean and it was where we usually went for a coffee.

Chaz had just come back with my ice coffee. After handing it to me and sitting down on the opposite chair, he said, "Okay, so tell me all about him then."

"Oh, I thought I had, he's called George, he was the bartender, he's completely dreamy and -"

"No, no," said Chaz. "Not him. Tell me all about Darcy. You were obviously attracted to him."

I spluttered into my coffee, ending up choking on it. After coughing to clear my airways, I stared at my friend. "What?"

Chaz shrugged. "You don't normally care about people being grumpy shits. You are a grumpy shit. So therefore, I conclude that you are just upset that he was so standoffish to you because you thought he was hot."

My jaw dropped. "What?" I repeated, but quieter this time. "I mean, he was good looking, I guess, but that doesn't mean I was attracted to him, does it?"

Chaz kept on pressing me for more information, which made me squirm in my seat. Now that I really thought about it, I suppose I did find Will Darcy quite attractive. However, I didn't like to tell Chaz that he was right (his head is already big enough) and I didn't really want to admit it to myself.

"Hey, look!" Chaz suddenly said, making me jump out of my own thoughts. "Look, it's Georgie!"

I turned my head to look in the direction that Chaz was pointing and saw, indeed that it was our friend Georgie, who I had known since my school years. We were pretty close, although admittedly not as close Chaz and I were and are. We waved her over. "Hey Gee," I said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was shopping down the road in this little boutique. Stopped in here for a cold drink - it's boiling out there."

"God, I know. Deodorant was used but I'm still a little damp," said Chaz. I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was joking. I wasn't sure.

"Anyway," said Georgie, moving on briskly. "I'm glad I ran into you. I was going to call you later anyway to ask you both to dinner tomorrow. My brother has just come back from a long business trip and I thought you could both come over to meet him. There'll be a few others there and it'll be quite casual."

Georgie gave us some more details about the next evening and then rushed off, saying that she had to relieve the babysitter. Georgie had the cutest little son, who must have been about two or three now. He had the same blonde hair as his mother and was an absolute angel. Chaz and I waved Georgie goodbye as she hurried out of the café. She had always been quite scatter-brained, so I wasn't surprised when she came rushing back because she'd left her glasses on the coffee table in front of us.

.

I picked up my phone to stop the incessant beeping that was my ringtone. "What are you wearing?" Chaz asked me, concerned, down the telephone. Seeing as it was the first thing he had said to me, I wasn't sure if his concern was in regards to himself, not wearing appropriate clothes, or if the concern was for me and that I wasn't wearing the right clothes.

"Er, just a white dress. Nothing showy. Why?"

"Just wondering if I had to colour co-ordinate with you. I'll be there in twenty minutes. I'm driving. I don't want a repeat of last time." Last time I had driven Chaz to an event, I had accidentally crashed into a dustbin while parking. I still claim that there was no way I could have seen the bin due to the angle it was at to my mirror. Claim. "See you soon, Liz." Ben hung up. Honestly, that boy confuses me sometimes.

By the time I had brushed my hair as best I could (waves make it super tangly, damn it) and put on a little make up, Ben was knocking on my door.

"I've got it!" called Jane up to me from the sitting room downstairs.

"Thanks!" I yelled back, feeling wonderfully unladylike. "I'll be down in two seconds Chaz," I called, reaching for my phone to put into my purse.

I picked up a pair of brown leather sandals and slipped then on my feet. I was always quite sceptical about those sandals because my toes were literally exposed to the world, the amount of times I had stubbed my toes whilst wearing them. But the words of my mother came back to haunt me: "There is no gain without pain." Ugh. How vile.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I skipped down the stairs. "I'm not sure when I'll be back, so don't wait up for me, Janey." I kissed her goodbye and then went outside with Chaz to fire up his car. Which, by the way, was a Ferrari. I mean, no big deal or anything. IT'S A FLIPPING FERRARI I ALWAYS FORGET HOW AMAZING IT IS. Ahem.

"Do you know where you're going?" I asked Chaz, as he fired up the engine.

He paused and looked at me. "Yes," he nodded very seriously. "I know exactly where I am going. I don't need any help from you at all." Okay, so I have a teensy tiny admission to make: I am the world's biggest backseat driver. Ever. This is why, although I am terrible at driving, Jane lets me drive anyway. I can't help it - it's probably part of my DNA, because Mum does it to me to. Lord help anyone driving me and mother anywhere together.

We arrived at the house in about fifteen minutes, although we could have been there about ten minutes earlier if Chaz had listened to MY instructions. We knocked on the shiny black door, waiting for it to open.

And when it did, I almost dropped the bottle of wine that I was holding.

"Are you following me?!" I screeched, in a high pitched voice. Because, there standing right in front of me was the man who was probably haunting me. Will Darcy.

Chaz looked at me with some concern. "Are you okay?"

I put the hand that wasn't holding the bottle of wine over my eyes, then took them off, hoping that it was all just a horrible dream. It was, Darcy was still standing there, the smug bastard that he was. "That's the one I was telling you about," I said to Chaz, waving a hand distractedly at him.

Georgie's voice echoed through the halls. "Will? Aren't you going to let them in?" I heard footsteps coming closer to the door. Georgie pushed past her brother and greeted us. I thrust the bottle of wine at her, still in too much shock to say anything.

"I see you've met my brother. This is Will and this is-"

"We've met," Will cut her off sharply.

"Oh..." Georgie seemed a bit put out.

"We met him when Jane and I went to stay with our parents. He was at Netherfield with Charlie Bingley," I said weakly, still not meeting that insufferable man's eyes.

Georgie led us into her house. "You didn't tell me that, Will," she said.

I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye. "I guess it just never came up in conversation," he said. Was he blushing?! Ugh.

Then Georgie's son, Ben, came running into the room, wearing some dinosaur pyjamas. His father, Georgie's husband, Hugh, came jogging after him, a pained expression on his face. "I couldn't stop him," he said breathlessly, to his wife. He wanted to come and say hello to Chaz and Lizzie."

I bent down to the toddler's eye level and gave him a big hug. "Hey Ben!" I said.

"Hello Lizzie," he said, the z's of my name coming out as th's because of his child's lisp.

"Are you supposed to be in bed?" I asked him seriously.

He bit his lip, unsure what to say. "Yes..." he finally muttered.

I looked at Ben and at his dad, feeling more than a little sorry for the man, and back to the kid who was running circles around his father. I waited a beat before saying, "First one to run to your bedroom wins!" I let the little boy have a head-start before galloping after him. "I'm gonna catch you!" I shrieked up the stairs, which made Ben screech with laughter and run even faster.

I tucked him up in his bed, like I used to do for Lydia. I clicked the door shut quietly behind me, because the little boy was already half asleep.

.

Back downstairs, Hugh poured me a glass of wine. "Thank you so much for that," he said to me, gratefully. "It's definitely the terrible twos...he just won't do as he's told."

I shrugged. "When you've seen some of the kids that I've had in my class, your Ben is like an angel."

Hugh chuckled. "You missed it earlier - he made Will play with him while he was in the bath. That's my shirt Will's wearing now - he was completely soaked when Ben had finished."

I snorted and Will glared at me. He really needs to lighten up, I thought.

There were a few other of Georgie and Hugh's friends there too, so I chatted for a bit with them, while we waited for Georgie to finish the dinner preparations. I tried to stay as far away from Will Darcy as I could...but dinner was just awful.

.

"Okay, if you all want to sit down at the table," Georgie said, beckoning us all into the adjoining room, where there was a table set out and laid. "I've put some name cards on each of the places, so if you just find your names, that's should make it a lot easier."

My eyes searched for my name on the little white cards next to the wine glasses, hoping that I was at least next to someone that I knew. I knew them alright. I found my name. And it was only next to Will Flipping Darcy's. I sighed and met Chaz's gaze pleadingly, silently asking to swap places with me. He pretended not to see my pleas...boy was he in for it later.

I sat down, with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I cheered up a lot more when the food was bought out - food has that effect on me. And anyway, it wasn't as though I actually had to talk to him. We had a starter of smoked salmon something (I don't care what it is as long as it's edible), which kept me quiet for a while.

Then, Georgie, who was sitting next to me, tried to start up a conversation with both me and Will. I mean, that could only end badly. "So, Lizzie, Will tell me how you met again, I don't think you said earlier."

Before Darcy could cut in with his (wrong) version of events, I said, "Oh, he just basically tried to run me and Jane over in his car."

I could see Georgie analyzing my face, as if trying to see whether or not I was joking. "He did?"

This time, Darcy decided to have his two pennies' worth. "Actually, Elizabeth was driving slower than a geriatric snail, and wasn't even using her indicator light when she was trying to turn into the drive."

"Erm, excuse me!" I began, "Firstly, I think you'll find that I most certainly was using my indicator light! I'm a very good driver." I think I heard Chaz snort at this point, but I tactfully ignored him - yes, you heard right - tactfully - and continued, "Secondly, no one is allowed to call me Elizabeth unless you are my mother. And even then, you're pushing it. Last time I checked you are most certainly not my mother."

"No, and I wouldn't want to be that crazy old bat," he muttered loud enough for me, Chaz and Georgie to hear. I stood up sharply. As much as my mother gets on my tits sometimes, she's still my mum and I love her. So Will Darcy was so not going to get away with that.

"How dare you," I hissed darkly. For the first time that evening, I met his eyes, which met mine evenly. Damn you lawyer training. I could feel myself begin to shake with anger. "How dare you say that about my mother, in front of me. You are quite possibly the rudest, most immature and pathetic little man that I have ever met. You have no right at all to say that when you barely even know my mother. And the little that you do is only good - she let you into her house!"

Darcy stood up too. "She may have let me into her house, but why? Because she was trying to pair up Charlie with your sister and me with you! I heard her talking to her pious friends. And then when you went off with that bartender," he that out as if it physically tasted vile on his tongue, "She almost died and went to heaven. I mean, how desperate must she be to get rid of you if George Wickham was all it took her to get excited."

Now, I am rarely ever one to cry. I hate crying - your eyes sting and go all puffy and whatever make up I have on my face just dribbles. But I couldn't help the tears from welling up when I heard him say that, because, to tell you the truth, that's what I think sometimes, when my mother tries to pair me off with yet another bloke: that maybe she's just trying to get rid of me.

Thankfully at that moment, both Chaz and Georgie jumped to my aid, meaning that I didn't have to choke out another retort through my tears.

"Shut the hell up," said Ben, at the same time as Georgie hissed, "That's enough!" My eyes flicked up to see the whole table staring at me with wide eyes. A breathy sob escaped me and I ran out the room. Not only was I now thoroughly miserable, but I could feel my face burning with embarrassment. I lent against the wall of the hallway, after having picked up my purse. I took a couple of deep breaths. Georgie and Ben came out to the hallway too and Ben pulled me into a big hug.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked kindly.

"Oh Ben, yes please, if you wouldn't mind. I don't want to drag you away though...I'm sorry if I've ruined your evening," I said to Georgie.

She shook her head firmly. "You haven't at all, don't be silly. I will be having extremely strong words with my idiot brother tonight. I'm so sorry about that - I'm so embarrassed." Good to know I wasn't the only one.

I kissed Georgie on the cheek and hugged her briefly. Chaz fired up the car and we drove home.

.

Will Darcy couldn't quite believe what had happened earlier that evening - it was as though the words had just slipped off his tongue. He didn't even realise what he was saying until it was too late. And then he had seen the tears welling up in her eyes and he felt like the world's biggest bastard. Hell, he was the world's biggest bastard. His sister's few choice words about how Lizzie one of the sweetest girls he would ever meet and how she was so ashamed of him had had the desired effect. He felt terrible and just didn't know what to do about it.

After all, the girl couldn't know how he felt about George Wickham, the man who had had an affair with his fiancee just days before their planned marriage. He had walked in on them, felt sick and promised never to set eyes on his former best man or fiancee ever again. And then he had seen him at Mrs Bennet's party. He wasn't sure what to feel and had snuck off into a secret garden. Lizzie's mother wasn't even that bad, now he came to think of it. It was probably because Darcy, himself had grown up without a mother and wasn't used to mothering ways.

He couldn't bring himself to apologize to her though - he had too much pride for that. Egotism has its price to pay after all.


End file.
